


garden song

by toccoans



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toccoans/pseuds/toccoans
Summary: How simple life is. We buy a fish. We are fed.We sit close to each other, we talk and then we go to bed.-Supper, Garrison Keillor (2009)or: snippets of a quiet happy ending.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just some vaguely related atskt ficlets imported from twitter (^__^) ♡

For a person who claims he doesn't need memories, Atsumu's covered the walls of his and Kita's house with pictures of all kinds. some of them include:

  1. Atsumu and Osamu, aged 10. Both of them looking grumpily at the camera, bruises blooming on their faces and dirt caking up on their clothes. Aran took this picture back then, and the twins didn't even know it existed until he posted it for their 25th birthday.
  2. The Inarizaki group photo from Kita's captaincy, where none of them are ready to have their photo taken. _We don't need memories_ hangs proudly in the background. Kita loves the irony, and he loves the team. Atsumu loves him.
  3. A selfie taken during Kita's graduation. The photo's a little blurry, and Atsumu is an embarrassment: tears and snot running down his face. But Kita's been caught mid-laugh, and it's like capturing sunlight. Atsumu spends the following years trying to find it again.
  4. A photo from the opening of Onigiri Miya, taken by Suna. Atsumu has an arm around his brother, his face shining with pride. Just for the occasion, they're both dressed in the uniform. with the same black cap on, you'd barely be able to tell them apart.
  5. A professional photo from the day MSBY wins the league for the first time. Kita watched him from the stands. Emboldened by endorphins and a silent promise, Atsumu got down on one knee right there and then and asked kita to marry him. A gold medal and a gold ring.
  6. One from a few days before the 2021 olympics. The twins holding Atsumu's jersey between them, the emblazoned number both of theirs to share. Atsumu's victories are Osamu's now, too.
  7. The day they get married: it's traditional, and it's on the farm. the sunset paints Kita's hair pink and he's finally caught mid-laugh again. Atsumu's looking at him like he's a miracle. He's thirty years old and finally, finally home.
  8. Osamu and Shinsuke, sitting in the newest branch of Onigiri Miya. It’s a selfie, with his husband and brother's quietly delighted faces framing the tv between them. 2028, and Atsumu's on the world stage for the last time. KITA #11 shines proudly on his back.



One day when they're soothing their middle-aged muscles after a hard day's work, Shin notices.

“Who needs memories, right?" He laughs. Even after 2 decades, it's still the best sound Atsumu's ever heard.

These walls hold memories so they don’t have to.


	2. Chapter 2

Atsumu's notes on names, nicknames, and everything else in between. Or: exercises in referring to Kita Shinsuke.

_Kita-san_. Ofttimes _captain_ , and sometimes _senpai_ , but only when atsumu's in dire need of something. Kita-san, most of all. Two out of three of atsumu's high school years punctuated by the name, never not accompanied by the honorific after it.

A graduation ceremony. the name on Atsumu's lips and his hands firmly in his pockets — afraid of what they might ask for otherwise. A split second of hesitance, and the year of what if that lay in its wake.

_Shinsuke._ Said in a soft voice by its owner, after they find each other in the future. meeting again and again — first by accident, then slowly, on purpose.

Atsumu tries it on his tongue, practicing the way each of the three syllables fit in his mouth. he's barely allowed himself to think it in the past, but Atsumu's always been a quick study when it comes to things that matter to him.

_Shin._ It slips out of him, sleep-addled, when a cold dawn paints the walls purple and pink. there's no fanfare, no ceremony. instead it's plaintive and whiny, said in memoriam for the heat that existed between their bodies.

Later, he finds an empty kitchen and a warm breakfast. A post it note: _eat well - shin_. Three words, two meanings, and one syllable left. All of them to be tucked away into Atsumu's heart, warm enough to last a shared winter.

_Baby_ didn’t feel right until it did. until it was said in between intermingling breaths, and all of six feet of him was being lifted against the door in a surprising show of strength.

Atsumu says it as he's chasing sweetness between their lips. he's learned by this point that he only ever has to ask for anything and it'll be given to him tenfold.

_Darlin'_ , with a drawl. It's a sunday afternoon and they have nothing to do for once, content to soak in each others' presence without pressure. Jazz hums softly in the background as atsumu stands and holds a hand out, already swaying along to the music.

For a few minutes, he doesn't know much beyond the scent of lavender and the way soft hair tickles the crook of his neck.

_My love_. For the first time, or maybe the thousandth. Maybe Atsumu's said it so many times in his head for so many years, that saying it out loud didn't take much practice at all. _My love, my love, my love,_ like a litany, whispered against warm fingers adorned with new gold.

My love, I want to stay with you forever.

His name on Shinsuke's lips becomes a habit, nurtured like any else. _Atsumu_ , _'tsumu_ , and all the names in between. _sweetheart_ in a soothing voice and _sweetie_ in a teasing one. sunlight through fingers raking through bleach blond hair. _My golden boy_ , said in pure adoration.

_Then stay,_ Shinsuke says in return. He holds a thousand names when he threads their fingers together. _Stay. I love you, come home._


	3. Chapter 3

It's late evening when Atsumu finally makes it home. He never makes promises in regards to time, and Shin never expects him to. They're well-versed in the art of maintaining a long distance relationship. When Atsumu says he'll be home, Shin trusts that he will be. He never says anything he doesn't mean, not to Shin. 

So when Atsumu shows up at their door (and it is, their door. Their home, even if Atsumu isn't always physically there) with half lidded eyes and tousled hair, half asleep on his feet, Shinsuke greets him with open arms to fall right into.

"Missed you," Atsumu murmurs into Shinsuke's temple. He breathes in lavender and mint, the scent fresh like Shinsuke's just stepped out of the shower. "Ah, 'm tired." 

Warm hands rub circles into his back. Atsumu feels a smile against his neck. "Welcome home," Shinsuke says. 

It's only been a few minutes, but coming home and just being in the presence of his favourite person was already doing wonders for clearing the fog that clouded his mind. Most days, Atsumu wouldn't give up this life for the world. He was too hungry for the glory and too far from his goals to even think of stopping now. 

Most days. 

Some days were bad days, and some days it was hard. Some days the voice in his head was too loud, too angry, too demanding.  _ You will be perfect. You must be perfect. You have to be perfect. _ Somewhere in the recess of his mind lay the fear that one day the stadium lights would stop blinding him, that the crowd would stop cheering his name, that one day even Shinsuke would stop watching over him, if he stopped being  _ perfect.  _

Today was one of those bad days, a long, tiring slog of a Bad Day. Hours upon hours of being Miya Atsumu: Professional Volleyball Player, Miya Atsumu: Olympic Hopeful, Miya Atsumu: tired as hell. 

Here, at home, he was just Miya Atsumu: Kita Shinsuke's boyfriend. And what a relief it was, to leave the layers of him behind at their doorstep, baring his core to the only person he trusts to love him all the same. 

Releasing his hold, Shinsuke bends down to pick up Atsumu's bag from where he had dropped it on the floor. Instead of pulling away, Atsumu lets out a soft whine and drops his head unto Shinsuke's shoulder, nuzzling his head into the fabric of his shirt and wrapping his arms around his waist to draw him in even closer.

"Dinner first, cuddles after." Shinsuke laughs, prying Atsumu's arms off his waist and entangling their fingers together. 

"Fine." Atsumu pouts, but follows Shinsuke to the kitchen anyway, where a fully cooked meal waits for them. The familiarity and warmth of it’s almost enough to bring tears to Atsumu's eyes. He could almost hear Osamu's voice, calling him a crybaby like he always did, but he hasn't been home in two weeks. Days seem a lot longer when you spend it wishing you were somewhere else.

He loves Shinsuke's cooking almost as much as he loves the man himself. His time spent in the MSBY dorms eating the most boring food known to man only makes him appreciate it even more. Together, they clap their hands and say a small thanks for the food, Atsumu silently taking a small moment to thank whatever deity was watching over them for giving him the man seated in front of him. 

"Tell me about your day," Shinsuke says. 

Just like that, Atsumu feels the weight on his shoulders lighten. 

He smiles. 


End file.
